I’m a wonder for traveling – a wonder in that I can guarantee that my flight, no matter where to or on what airline, will be delayed. Now, I can add a second ‘skill’ to the list; I have a penchant (or gift) to nearly miss my flights. I got on the plane on Friday the 15th and we left five minutes later, but at least they didn’t have to hold the plane for me (which is always a sure way to make friends!).

Landing at Cardiff Airport is amazing – our little prop plane made a wonky landing, but you fly over the cliffs near the Bristol Channel and it’s just this gorgeous water meeting the lush green above it. It was an amazing taste of what I’d see the rest of the weekend.

The nightlife in Swansea, which is where my friend, S, was studying, is amazing. Similar to Aberdeen’s Belmont Street, they have a stretch that is nearly dedicated to drinking yourself to oblivion.

When I'm (L) drunk, I have no idea how to smile like a regular person.

S also showed me around the campus of her school, the University of Swansea.

Singleton Abbey

On Saturday we headed to The Gower, which boasts some of the most beautiful beaches in all of the UK (and Catherine Zeta-Jones doesn’t live too far!). Specifically we went to Oxwich Bay, which in 2007 was hailed by The Times as the most beautiful beach in Britain and it lived up to its award. Despite this, it wasn’t full of people; a few were sitting in lawn chairs on the massive beach, other people were heading out to meet people already in the surf. The beach’s parabolic curve headed around so far into the distance that the farthest parts looked like something from a painting.

Dog hog

Unmarred beach

On Sunday I needed to catch a 12.22pm train in order to get back to Cardiff, then take a bus that connected to the airport to catch my 3pm flight. By the time I thought to check the time it was already nearly 1pm, and I managed to miss the train and a different bus that went all the way to Cardiff Airport. S’s amazing flatmate, A, ponied up and offered to drive straight to the airport as I’d likely have to rebook a ticket to get back to the Deen. I gave her some money for gas (petrol, yeah, yeah, I know) and offered her my thanks as she drove the 45 minutes with a terrible hangover. It was a quick, but extremely memorable visit.

Pronunciation is beyond me.

[Also, I recently became a fan of Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci, a Welsh band recommended to me by my musically-inclined friend, P, so get a load of this song. The first time I heard it I had no idea the second half was Welsh – the language blows my mind.]